USUK: We'll Live the Day
by FantasyLover804
Summary: Get it, 'cause the title rhymes? Get it?…Er, never mind. Based off of WTF PRO.DUCTIONS's "Arthur Kirkland & Alfred F. Jones" cosplay skit. A simple conversation between our two favorite nations becomes so much more. USUK, obviously. Don't like, don't read. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


_**Author's Note**__: _I'll be the first to admit that I did _not_ think I'd become a USUK shipper. But fate had it in for me, so here I am, writing my first JoKer fic. XD

If you want to watch the original skit, you can find it here, just add YouTube's URL with a slash:  watch?v=JYIf-TKxccQ  


This story is not going to be exactly the same as the skit, but there will definitely be similarities. Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Hetalia or the rights to the original skit this story is based off of.

* * *

It was just the average Wednesday morning for our personified nation friends.

America walked cheerfully through the halls of the conference building, proud that he had managed to arrive there early for once. He held a half-eaten hamburger in one hand and a crumpled brown paper bag in the other.

_I wonder if I'm the first one here,_ he thought as he neared the main conference room. _That would be totally awesome, yo!_

But those thoughts were quickly shattered when he entered the large room and spotted a blond man reading a newspaper at the conference table.

Britain.

_What a surprise,_ America thought, rolling his eyes. _He's always here super-duper early. His imaginary friends prob'ly tell him to do it._ He let a giggle escape.

So America simply took a massive bite of his burger before stuffing it into the paper bag, then he walked over to the Brit. He sat down next to him, but sat on the table instead of in a chair.

"'Sup, British dude!" he greeted the older man, swallowing his breakfast. He pushed back the newspaper with his now-free hand and stared into Britain's emerald eyes with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Well, good morning, America," Britain replied kindly, folding up the newspaper and placing it in his lap. "You're early today. Decided not to oversleep for once?"

America's cheeks flushed and he snapped, "_Hey!_ I do _not_—" The bushy-eyebrowed man's knowing look and smug smile cut him off. America let a breath out through his nose and said more quietly, "Yeah. Tonny woke me up this mornin'."

"Ha! That explains it." Britain chuckled at America's red cheeks. But he suddenly cocked his head to one side and looked his former charge up and down. "It's nice you came early today, but do you really think you can come to a world meeting looking like _this?_" He gestured to all of the younger man.

America furrowed his eyebrows. "I look fine!"

"You stubborn little wanker. Stand up." Britain picked up his newspaper and got to his feet, looking expectantly at America. With a sigh, America tightened his grip on the bag, slid off the table, and stood in front of Britain, looking down at him.

"First of all, you have some sort of sauce all over your face," Britain began, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. He began to calmly wipe off America's mouth and nose. "What were you eating before you came in here?"

"A burger," America stated nonchalantly.

"For _breakfast?_"

"Yeah. What of it?" America turned his head away stubbornly as Britain continued to clean off his face.

"It's just that—er, never mind," the older nation sighed, realizing it was futile to try to explain the health hazard to the hamburger-loving nation. "Look at me. You're making this more difficult than it should be."

"I'm not a baby anymore, Britain," America complained, still not turning.

"Well, you need to start looking more decent at these meetings. _Look at me._"

Sighing once again, America turned to face his friend, blue eyes hard.

"All right. Your face is mess-free now," Britain announced, putting the handkerchief back in his pocket. _Note to self: Throw that in the trash as soon as possible, _he thought.

"Woop-dee-doo," America huffed, rolling his eyes and spinning one finger around in the air.

"Okay, now for your clothes." Britain put a hand to his chin and studied the American's attire. "To start, your tie isn't straight." The blond easily fixed that problem. "And your jacket is creased, as well." Britain grasped both sides of America's trademark bomber jacket and pulled it into place. America wore a frown of concentration on his features, and his gaze never moved from the other man's face. _He's in an ideal position now,_ the young man thought. _Should I do it? It's now or never, I guess…_

"And there's some crumbs on your shoulder here," Britain finished, dusting off the said disturbance. He took a half-step back and looked up and down at his work. "All right. It's not the best look for a meeting like this, but it'll do. It's _certainly_ better than when you came in." He let out a chuckle and held his newspaper with both hands. When he looked back to the younger nation, he frowned at the expression he saw. "Is something wrong, America? Am I bothering you that much?" He let out a shocked gasp when America stepped significantly closer and grabbed his shoulder. "A-America?! Wh-what the bloody hell are you doing?!"

America's frown evaporated and was replaced by a smirk. "Being bold, like heroes do."

"Wh-wh-what?!"

"You're too serious, Britain. You need to loosen up a bit, like me." America was so close now that their noses were touching.

"L-let go of me, you git! Stop acting like France!"

"I'm not like France!" the young man answered indignantly, but didn't pull away. His hand snaked its way from Britain's shoulder to behind the man's neck. His voice took on a seductive tone: "Maybe I'm _better _than France. And _you're_ not the boss of me anymore."

Britain was sweating and his face was flushed. "America, unhand me this instant or I swear I will—Mmph!" The older man was cut off when America leaned over him and locked their lips together. Britain's eyes widened in surprise, but America pulled away as suddenly as he had leaned in. Britain hadn't even had enough time to figure out how to react to the impromptu kiss.

America took a step back and gave Britain some room. He was smiling, his eyes sparkling. Britain just blinked, dumbfounded.

America smacked his lips together in thought. "You had Earl Grey before you came here, didn't you? I know that's your favorite."

The bushy-eyebrowed man just continued to stare at his former brother. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a small choke-like sound came out.

America cocked his head to one side, then let out a small, almost shy, smile. "I see you're gonna need some time to process that. I'll come back in a little bit. Adiós!" With a small wave, America walked out of the conference room, leaving a still-speechless Britain alone in the large room.

Britain stayed standing, and slowly brought the newspaper up to hide his mouth. He was still mulling over the fact that he had just been _kissed _by another _man_.

_Kissed _by one of his closest _friends_.

_Kissed _by the young man he had once thought of as a _brother_.

It was wrong, that's what it was. America shouldn't have kissed him.

But…it felt right, in a way. _God damn it, what am I thinking?_ Britain mentally growled to himself, shaking his head and clenching his teeth.

After a drawn-out moment, Britain lowered the newspaper and finally made a sound: he let out a long sigh.

Ever since he had become independent, America definitely _had_ been acting strange around Britain, and Britain had noticed that. The younger nation always had this ridiculous grin on his face around him, and always seemed determined to impress him.

_Maybe that's why he separated from me,_ Britain thought suddenly, eyes widening in realization. _He wanted me as an equal so that we could…But why'd he wait so long to make a move like that? It's not like him to hesitate._

"I guess love can change people…even arrogant 'heroes,'" Britain whispered, letting out a weak chuckle. "But I've never thought of America in such a way. Even now after the Revolution…I've still thought of him as my little brother."

Britain let out another sigh, thinking hard, and turned so that his back was to the entrance of the room. He couldn't decide how exactly he felt about the young man.

"I think it's called _tsundere_," he mused. "When someone starts out cold to someone else but eventually falls for that person. America and I have always argued…I think he just enjoys my reaction, but I oppose his ideas for the sake of protecting him…Because I care about him…"

_But do you love him?_ a small voice asked in the back of his head.

_"I think you do love him, Britain,"_ a high-pitched voice prompted. Britain turned back toward the door to find Flying Mint Bunny hovering in front of him.

"Y-y-you do?!" the blond man stammered.

_"You care about him waaaaay more than a brother would,"_ Mint Bunny giggled. _"And I've seen the way you stare into his eyes…"_

Britain blushed, about to protest, but he stopped himself and looked down at his shoes, considering the creature's words.

"Then perhaps…perhaps I _do_ love him back." Britain smiled, holding the newspaper close to his chest as if he were embracing it.

"Well, that's great news for me!" Britain looked back up and blinked to find Flying Mint Bunny disappearing, only to be replaced by America reentering the conference room, still holding his brown paper bag.

Britain grinned and lightly slapped America's arm with the paper as he approached. "Always thinking of yourself, aren't you? How inconsiderate!"

America let out one of his trademark laughs. "I guess I'll have to change that." His voice quieted and he smiled fondly at the blond man: "For you."

Britain tilted his head to one side as he studied America's face. "You were eating again, weren't you? You've gotten sauce all over your mouth again!"

The brunette grinned mischievously. He grabbed one of Britain's hands. "I guess you'll have to help clean me up again then, huh?"

Without waiting for an answer, he began to drag a madly blushing Brit out of the conference room.

"B-but what about the meeting?" Britain finally managed to say as he allowed America to drag him to God-knows-where in the building. "They'll notice we're not there!"

"Eh, let the bastards start without us," America replied calmly, letting out a short cackle. "We won't be too long."

That only made Britain blush more.

_**A little while later…**_

"'As anyone seen _Angleterre_ or _Amérique_?" France asked, standing up at the conference table. "I know America 'as a tendency to be late, but Britain's always on time."

"I was wondering zhe same zhing," Germany agreed. A few of the other nations murmured in agreement, looking slightly concerned for the two missing countries.

"Erm…I-I could go looking for them if you'd like, Papa," Canada piped up, tapping France on the shoulder.

France nodded to his adoptive son. "Good idea. Search the building as best as you can, _mon fils_."

Canada smiled and stood up, clutching Kumajiro against his chest before making his way out of the conference room.

"Where could they be?" he muttered to himself.

"Who are you?" the small bear asked.

"I'm _Canada_, your _owner_," Canada replied automatically, still looking around. "And we have to find Britain and America so we can start the meeting."

After a little while of searching, Canada was getting ready to give up when he heard a small yelp from not too far away.

"What the hockey?" he wondered aloud, making his way toward the sound.

A moment later he heard a small chuckle coming from a closet. Furrowing his eyebrows, Canada approached the small room and opened the door.

He jumped back, gasped, and covered Kumajiro's eyes.

What he saw in the closet was America pinning Britain to the wall of the closet and kissing him quite passionately. America's prized jacket was on the floor along with Britain's tie.

"M-maple!" Canada squeaked, his cheeks reddening, wanting to look away but somehow not able to do so.

America's eyes shot open and he stumbled away from Britain. Both men looked at the newcomer with dilated eyes and furiously blushed cheeks.

"C-Canadia!" America gasped, staring at his brother. "Wh-what are _you_ doing here?!"

"I-I-I came looking for you guys when y-you were missing at the meeting," Canada stuttered, uncovering his bear's eyes. "I-I didn't know you two were…oh dear…maple hockey…"

America still gawked at the Canadian, but then his face darkened. He marched over to his younger brother and stood over him.

"You. Saw. _Nothing_," he snarled, harshly poking Canada's chest with each word.

"R-right. N-nothing at all, eh." _Not that anyone would listen to me anyway,_ the violet-eyed man thought.

"Now, now, America. Don't be angry with him. At least he's not France." Britain managed a chuckle and bent down to pick up his tie and his lover's bomber jacket. He walked over and helped America put the jacket back on.

"Yeah, whatever," the brunette snorted, straightening his jacket. "Just as long as he doesn't say anything." Britain began to put on his tie.

"Well, they _will_ have to find out eventually," the Brit pointed out, and Canada nodded vigorously in agreement.

"We'll deal with that when it comes up," America growled. He stomped out of the closet, shoving past his brother. Britain clicked his tongue and put a hand on Canada's shoulder.

"Sorry you had to see that, lad," he apologized. "But don't be worried. America's not mad at you; he was just a little surprised. And I'm not mad at you either."

Canada gave a small, shy smile and nodded.

"Come on, let's get to the meeting. We've made you all wait long enough." Britain began to walk after America, and, after a short moment of hesitation, Canada followed.

_I never expected those two to…Y'know, let's not think about it, eh,_ he thought, feeling his face pale. He saw America and Britain share a very quick kiss before walking into the conference room.

"Never fear! America, the hero is here!" America announced loudly and obnoxiously as usual. He and Britain took their seats, not noticing some of the other nations muttering suspiciously to each other.

Canada sat down next to France, and the Frenchman turned to look at him, noting how pale the young man looked. "Is something the matter, _mon garçon_? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"N-no, it's nothing, Papa," Canada said, not looking at the blond man. France opened his mouth to ask again, but decided against it. He shrugged to himself and looked at Germany, who was now ranting about how the meeting would work.

_As long as they're happy, it's okay,_ Canada thought, looking over at America and Britain. _And if they're happy, I'm sure everyone else will be happy for them, too. Even Papa France. I know he's always liked Britain. _The Canadian smiled to himself, feeling a little bad for France. _He'll be disappointed, but happy for the two nonetheless._

_We're U.S. and U.K., I suppose the pairing would be,_ Britain thought, suppressing another chuckle. _And we'll have to live the day when the rest of them find out. I think everything will work out just fine, though…_

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**Wow…it's _done_.

I was actually going to make the part with Canada a new chapter, but realized it may be better just to put everything together.

I just _love_ Canada, so I had to put him in here somewhere. XD

Oh, and sorry. Crappy ending will be crappy. I kinda rushed it and wasn't sure where I was going with it, LOL.

Oh, and for those of you who don't know French:

_Angleterre_ = "England"

_Amérique_ = "America"

_mon fils_ = "my son"

_mon garçon_ = "my boy"

Sorry if it's not completely correct, I used Google Translate.

Please feel free to comment or leave suggestions! Thanks for reading!

-Fanta :)


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